F-Zero -- Time
by Koopatrol
Summary: He knew that his time was running out. One couldn't survive as a homeless, unemployed, uneducated bum forever. He knew that he'd have to get one more thrill. -(TO BE EDITED)-


**-Time-**

From within the dark depths of the infamous Lower City, a young man gazed at the horizon, taking in all of the sights of the Mute City skyline – a silhouette of the most populated metropolis on planet earth looming over him, standing tall against the grey, overcast sky. A frigid breeze irritated his exposed face and ruffled his long, brown hair. Tears formed in his eyes as the wind pushed against him roughly. He was forced to cover his eyes with his arms, as he couldn't stand the intense stinging sensation that the freezing air had brought to them. All he had on to protect himself from the icy winter temperatures was a simple denim jacket, a pair of black jeans, worn down boots, and a black t-shirt.

In the distance he heard gunfire – probably the result of a turf war. He knew that the galactic federation wouldn't intervene, as no federation officer dared enter the dangerous and treacherous environment known as the lower city. The lower city was essentially the part of Mute City where all of the gangs ruled, and where all of the poverty-stricken citizens resided. Every night he was forced to worry about being killed by a wandering gangster. His knowledge on the gangs themselves was a bit deficient, but it didn't exactly take a genius to realize that staying away from any suspicious looking character could end up saving your life.

He ultimately decided that it would be best if he retreated from the area as quickly as possible. It seemed like the gunfire was distant enough to not pose a threat to him, but he figured that it was better to be safe than sorry. In all actuality, constantly retreating from an area had become routine for him. He had to do it pretty much every other day.

It was nearing sundown. The gunfire hadn't ceased for hours, putting the young man even more on edge. He jumped at every ruffle, every breeze, and every creek that sounded from the abandoned, condemned house he was staying in. He sighed, letting his mind drift off to the time of the year. It wasn't too long before the start of the annual F-Zero grand prix, the only thing that got his mind off of the desperate homelessness he faced. He loved the races; the adrenaline, the excitement, the destruction! It was almost worth the wait, but in the end, it was only a temporary fix to his problem. He was lucky enough, however, that he had access to a local bar, one where he was able to view the F-Zero races free of charge on less than impressive television screens.

He was most excited to watch his favorite racer zip down the track at incredible speeds with the goal of claiming the prize money once again - the Mighty Gazelle, pilot of the Red Gazelle, the famous and legendary cyborg racer. The Mighty Gazelle was an inspiration to the young man, as he could easily be looked at as someone who is a survivor. Someone who continued to dwell on his passion, even though his passion almost got him killed. The young man could relate to the Mighty Gazelle – as the young man was a survivor himself.

More gunfire broke out in the near distance. The man jolted up and scrambled to the corner of the building, feeling the sickening sensation of spiderwebs getting tangled in his greasy hair as he huddled up. Only a little bit of daylight leaked through the cracks in the brick walls. The man sighed as he realized that it was still a week until the grand prix. It couldn't come soon enough, and he had really hoped that he could manage to endure all of the challenges thrown at him so he could at least enjoy the viewing of one more F-Zero race. He knew that his time was running out. One couldn't survive as a homeless, unemployed, uneducated bum forever. He knew that he'd have to get one more thrill. One more grand prix. Just one last opportunity to feel even the slightest pang of happiness. He knew that this was all he had to look forward to. This was the last thing he would ever truly enjoy.


End file.
